I'll Show You Mine
by moonmama
Summary: “It's a strange sensation, dying. No matter how many times it happens to you, you never get used to it.” -Dax The Doctor engages in a friendly competition with a new acquaintance. Deep Space Nine crossover - not to be taken seriously. Not even a little


A/N: For anyone unfamiliar with the character of Jadzia Dax, please note that she refers to her previous hosts in the third person; so when she's talking about Tobin or Emony or Torias, she's speaking from her own memories, even though it seems like she's talking about someone else.

Most of the details regarding the deaths of the Dax symbiont's hosts are unknown. I've used what details I could find and taken creative license with the rest.

Many thanks to my fabulous betas, **femme_slash_fan** and MizJoely - who suggested the title.

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"Spectrox toxaemia," the Doctor announced, smacking his lips as he lowered his drink to the table and grinned impishly at the woman sitting across from him. "It's an illness brought on after coming in contact with the substance called spectrox on Androzani Minor. _Very_ nasty way to die I assure you; it starts with blisters on your hands, muscle cramps, and gradually progresses through the nervous system until your entire body feels like it's being eaten from the outside in. And, to add insult to injury – or, insult to death as the case may be – I had to force my body to hold off on regenerating for several hours while I found a cure for my companion." He rubbed a hand on his cheek. "Never was quite right in the head my entire next incarnation. Taste in clothing so bad that I was banned from most Parisian restaurants, and several races of aliens who were particularly sensitive to light reported having seizures at thirty paces."

His companion was unimpressed. Jadzia Dax was a native of the Trill homeworld, and eighth host to the Dax symbiont that inhabited her body and joined with her mind and personality. Jadzia, the host body, was a mere thirty-two years old, but she carried the memories of the symbiont that spanned seven previous lives – and deaths – over three centuries.

She gazed back at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, Doctor, a little poison? Have a sip of this." She pushed her goblet in his direction. "Same effect, only it won't kill you. Lasts longer that way."

The Doctor squinted into the cup and sniffed gingerly before taking a sip. Immediately his respiratory bypass system was set off into a violent round of coughing and sputtering. "W – w – what?" he choked out, pointing to the red liquid inside as he slid the goblet back at her disdainfully.

She grasped it firmly and took another swill. "Klingon blood wine," she replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "No drink better in the universe for sharing war stories, though I admit it's not the smoothest vintage I've ever tasted."

"Not the smoothest vintage?" echoed the Doctor incredulously. "I've tasted Jilogian turbo-charged engine lubricant that was easier to stomach than that."

Jack took that moment to reappear at their table, pausing to wink at Jadzia before he grabbed a chair, spun it around and straddled it. "Bit of a lightweight, this one," he said to her, nodding toward the Doctor. "Not the best at holding his drink. Although I will say that his previous regeneration was better; there was this one time when he - "

"Never mind that," the Doctor cut him off, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to Jadzia. "Worst deaths," he prompted her, waving an inviting hand towards himself. "Lay it on me."

Jadzia set her drink down on the table with an insolent thump. "Neural degeneration," she began. "It's a progressive disease brought on by repeated injuries to the spinal column. This was Emony – my third host. It started when she was about 70; the numbness in her legs, the incredible fatigue, the loss of motor control. Over the next two years, she gradually lost all feeling and all ability to move her muscles. At the end, she couldn't even stay awake for more than five minutes at a time."

The Doctor scoffed. "Numbness? Sleep? It sounds like a positively _luxurious_ way to die."

She sighed reluctantly. "Emony was a gymnast, so obviously she had a few injuries over the years that caused this. It was hard on her because it was such a slow progression; she and her entire family knew exactly what was coming. But I suppose you're right – there _are_ more painful ways to go."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "All right," he said, his eyes brightening. "How about this one: primitive weapons, coupled with even more primitive medical technology. I was shot by a twentieth century gun which wouldn't have killed me, mind you, except that they tried to treat me at one of their hospitals. They had never seen an alien before." He shuddered visibly. "The surgeon got completely lost whilst trying to operate, causing both my hearts to fail, and I died on the operating table. Then, their anesthesia was so thick that I couldn't even regenerate for several hours. And, to top that off, once I finally _did_ regenerate, I still had one of their medical devices implanted in my chest. I had to yank it out with my bare hands." He leaned back in his chair and looked smug. "Still," he reflected, placing his hands behind his head, "that doctor wasn't a half bad snog, and I did get a nice pair of shoes out of the deal."

Jadzia nodded appreciatively, and Jack threw her a knowing look. "Let's see you top that one," he challenged with a smirk.

The Doctor waggled a finger at the Captain. "_You_ stay out of this," he ordered. "You've died more times than you've…" he broke off with a glance at Jack's lower regions. "Well, let's just say that it wouldn't be much of a fair game."

Jack grinned sideways at Jadzia before sliding off his chair and getting to his feet. "Hey," he said, holding up his hands deferentially. "I'm here strictly as an observer."

"This is _not_ a spectator sport," admonished the Doctor.

"Fair enough." Jack leaned over to take Jadzia's hand and laid a kiss on it. "As soon as you're done humiliating him, come find me," he spoke alluringly.

Jadzia was not easily swept away by his charm. "Do you want a turn getting humiliated?" she asked innocently. "Or is there something else you're implying?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," he replied as he departed back in the direction of the dartboard.

Jadzia turned back to the Doctor. "OK," she announced with a toss of her hair. "Tobin, my second host, died of head trauma. It was _three days_ until he finally expired. The fluid buildup in his head was the equivalent pressure of being a mile under water, and the Dax symbiont is allergic to several medications, so there were very few that they could offer, and what they did was only marginally effective. Tobin died screaming bloody murder, cursing the symbiont part of himself. There was blood leaking from his eyes, ears and nose." She lifted her drink to punctuate the tale. "It was ugly," she concluded, drinking deeply.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "Not bad," he conceded. "But wait a minute – you never said how it happened – the head injury."

A slight flush of color was evident between her spots as she shook her head. "That's not important," she deflected. "It was a _very_ painful death."

The Doctor grinned a cheeky grin and nodded knowingly. "Walked into a wall, did he?"

"He did not," she protested. She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "OK, I'll tell you, but remember - it does _not_ take away from _any_ of the pain he suffered," she warned him sternly.

"Of course not," he agreed, but the gleam in his eye belied his seriousness.

She slid forward in her chair and rested her elbows on the table. "We have these birds on Trill," she began. "Eblats, they're called. Huge things; they have a wingspan of over six feet. They like to pick up turtles and drop them on the rocks to crack them open." She gulped her drink quickly before continuing. "Well, in his later years Tobin had gone a bit bald, and I guess from above, his head might have slightly resembled a rock…"

The Doctor's lips twitched and his body shuddered with the struggle to hold back the laughter; a struggle that he was quickly losing.

Jadzia thumped the table indignantly with her fist. "It was an _excruciating_ death," she repeated emphatically.

He regained his composure, straightening his face as he straightened up in his chair. "Of course," he nodded deferentially.

They gazed at each other silently, his suppressed mirth battling with her displeasure until the more powerful of the two won out.

They both burst into laughter.

Regaining his composure, the Doctor sipped his drink before launching into another tale. "OK, try this one," he began. "Radiation poisoning. I was exposed to massive amounts of radiation in the cave of an overgrown mutant spider. I could barely stand or think, and still I had to pilot the TARDIS away from the cave as it exploded. I still have no idea how long it was until I found my way back to Earth." He tapped his fingers on his cheek. "I won't even get into what the radiation did to my digestive system those few days," he added.

Jadzia shook her head. "I don't think so," she objected. "There is _no_ way that compares with the three days of torture that Tobin endured."

"I beg to differ," he protested. "Nausea, delirium, fatigue, internal bleeding," he rattled off, before fixing her gaze and adding, "diarrhea."

Unfazed, she shot back, "_Agonizing_ pain. Sensitivity to even tiny amounts of light. Chills and muscle spasms, an uncontrollable nosebleed, all of it deteriorating into a profound state of dementia."

The Doctor laid a hand on the table decisively. "All right," he stated. "We need a judgment call here." He turned to look behind him, where Jack was deeply engrossed in conversation with two blue-green aliens that had a plethora of tentacles in unexpected places. "Jack!" he called.

Jack looked up and obligingly sauntered back over to them. "What can I do for you?" he asked, throwing a salacious glance at Jadzia, his charm turned all the way up to eleven. "Tired of him yet?" he asked her.

She clicked her tongue. "I'm just as tired of him as you are of your tentacled twosome over there," she retorted coyly, nodding towards his companions in the rear.

"We need an impartial decision here," explained the Doctor. "Which is worse – radiation poisoning – complete with nausea, acute fatigue, secondary heart failure – or a little bump on the head?"

"_Massive_ head trauma," Jadzia corrected. "And head trauma is worse for Trills than it is for humans – plus Tobin's was spread over _three days_ with minimal pain relief."

Jack took no time to ponder. "Head trauma," he stated unequivocally.

"Oi!" interjected the Doctor. "An _unbiased_ opinion, please. No human hormones involved; all decisions made _above_ the neck, if you would."

"Who says the hormones would favor her, anyway?" Jack shot back with a lascivious grin at the Doctor. He folded his arms over his chest. "My answer still stands."

The Doctor looked indignant. "My fourth body died of head trauma and it was one of the most peaceful deaths I've had."

"Maybe that's because there was nothing inside your head to injure," Jadzia offered playfully as she gave the empty seat next to her a pat. "Jack, have a seat, we may need you again." She turned to the Doctor. "OK, try this one: a shuttlecraft accident. Torias, my fifth host, died when his shuttle crashed to the planet traveling at a rate of five hundred miles an hour, setting the entire vessel on fire as it descended. Torias had burns over eighty percent of his body." She gazed across at her companion expectantly.

Once again, the Doctor scoffed. "Poppycock. A few burns? I was once infected by the energy of a sun; it was a living creature that was murderously angry because some humans decided to mine it for cheap fuel. It tried to take over my body, burning it from the inside-out. I had to let them put me in deep freeze at temperatures close to zero degrees Kelvin in order to hold off the infection."

"If I recall what Martha told me," Jack interjected, "that incident didn't actually kill you. Does it count if it's not fatal?" He glanced back and forth between the two of them.

"I thought you were staying out of this," the Doctor objected before turning back to Jadzia. "What do you say, Jadzia? All painful experiences? Or just the fatal ones?"

Surprisingly, she brightened at the prospect. "All of them," she agreed.

"All right," he stretched back in his chair. "Let's see – my arch-enemy once suspended all my past regenerations and aged my current body to its full nine centuries." He shook his head. "I looked like Dobby from the _Harry Potter_ movies."

Jadzia's response was more concise. "Sex with a Klingon," she shot back.

He raised an eyebrow at her before countering that one. "Voice theft," he offered. "An alien creature stole my voice and my mind, leaving my body completely helpless. Everyone around me was convinced that _I_ was the one possessed by the alien; they nearly threw me out an airlock."

Jadzia was silent for a moment as she considered her reply. She lifted her drink and took a gulp before replacing it on the table and gazing back and forth at her two companions, a gleam in her eye like a player holding a royal flush.

Then she landed her devastating blow with one word. "Childbirth."

The Doctor's face fell. He slumped back in his chair, crestfallen and silent.

He knew he'd been bested

_fin_


End file.
